


You Forgot to Remember

by jamiesommers



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Book 3: Mockingjay, F/M, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay, Prompts in Panem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesommers/pseuds/jamiesommers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta find themselves in the throes of passion in the most unexpected of places: Tigris’s basement. When morning comes, will they acknowledge the night the boy with the bread returned to place a claim on Katniss’s heart? Will Peeta be able to keep hold of the memories they created? Or will Katniss choose to act as though they hadn’t shared a once in a lifetime experience? Find out in…</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Forgot to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This story started with an anon’s request to read a story where Katniss and Peeta lose their virginity while in the Capitol during Mockingjay. Obviously it blossomed from there when I read the black and white description for PiP. So I’d like to say thank you to Prompts in Panem for coming up with this round’s categories. It was a hell of an inspiration. Thank you to Kel for giving me some helpful feedback. To Abby I must say the amount of gratitude I have for you cannot be measured. Your suggestions, corrections and your listening skills are a blessing. To Broadway Baby, is there any doubt how I feel about you? I worship the quicksand you walk on. All kidding aside, I have to give mad props to you BB for your suggestions, your brilliance, your editing skills (I love that red pen), and kudos for introducing me to this wonderful Irving Berlin song, and giving me an amazing title. God knows what grammatically incorrect thing I would have come up with had I been left to make the decision on my own. ;) Love you my dear, sweet friends.

**You Forgot to Remember**

**By: Jamie Sommers**

**Day 7 PiP: Black and White**

**Warnings: Mild violence, first time intercourse, and explicit descriptions of sexual acts.**

 

 

**You Forgot to Remember**

Remember we found a lonely spot  
And after I learned to care a lot  
  
You promised that you'd forget me not  
But you forgot  
To remember

~Irving Berlin~

I see Peeta being strapped to a table and throw myself against the glass when the monitor shows his heart has stopped beating. Something in the back of my mind tells me that I’ve lived through this moment already, that it will be okay, until one of the doctors pulls his mask down and I see a speck of blood dripping from his puffy lips. “Noooooooo!” I simultaneously yell and shoot upright from my sleeping position.

 

Taking a look around the room, I see what’s left of my squad asleep beneath the piles of old furs that Tigris has given us to keep warm. Pollux has finally succumbed to exhaustion from the grief of losing his brother. I don’t think Cressida has ever been as physically active as she has been the past couple of days, so she was out the second her head burrowed into a soft fur. Gale has lost so much blood from his neck wound that his body has simply shut down in search of healing rest. Not one of them flinches at my screams. For a moment I think, _Thank God we’re not under attack. None of us would survive._

 

I start as I feel his eyes on me, but the familiar blue that always held a hint of humor and an abundance of love, is gone. In its place is the constantly questioning look Peeta gives me, trying to determine if he should worry about me or revel in my discomfort. When I see his stare piercing me through the darkness, I know that Peeta has decided on the latter.

 

I hunker down beneath my fur and remember a time when Peeta’s arms soothed me — a time when I found security in them from the demons that invaded my sleep — and I miss the boy that loved me, I’m tempted to crawl to him at this very instant. Instead, I close my eyes and think to myself, _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old and I am the Mockingjay. Peeta has been brainwashed by Snow to kill me. Coin has sent Peeta to the Capitol because she wants me dead too. I am going to kill President Snow._ This last thought is the one that normally brings me a sick pleasure, but tonight all it does is remind me that I have lost almost everything that brought a modicum of joy into my life.

 

I lost my home Snow’s firebombs. I’ve lost my best friend, Gale. Our relationship always feels as though we’re in limbo now. He’s waiting…hoping that I will discover I’m in love with him too. I haven’t, and I’m certain that I’ll never be able to have those feeling for anyone. I know I care for Gale. He’s been my confidant for years, so of course I care, but I have yet to figure out what that means.

 

I glance over my shoulder, for only a second, but it’s long enough to see Peeta staring back at me and pressing his wrists into his handcuffs. I have lost him too. A sharp pain stabs me in the gut when I think of how I always assumed Peeta would love me, and now that he doesn’t I find it hurts more than I can bear. I push those feelings down in the pit of my stomach. I tell myself that my family is safe, that Gale’s family is safe, but then I remember that Peeta’s family…thousands of families are dead because of me, and I slink deeper beneath the fur.

 

I try to find something pleasant to think about that will help me find peace while I sleep: Prim’s gift of goat cheese, my father teaching me to use a bow and arrow, floating weightlessly on the lake in District Twelve... And before I know it, I’m stuck behind a plate glass wall again, screaming for Peeta.

 

I can see Snow’s scientists surrounding Peeta’s unresponsive body injecting tracker jacker venom into his veins. My voice is screeching. My nails are bloodied from my attempts to claw my way through the thick shield, and I watch as Peeta succumbs to a form of torture no living soul should ever bear. “Peeta!” Once again I sit straight up, only this time I don’t look around to see if anyone is awake. I don’t have time to care. The only thing I can think of is getting to Peeta. I crawl the few feet across the floor that is padded with furs, and fumble for the key to his handcuffs.

 

I think my actions will rouse him, but then I see that he has been awake this entire time and watching me. “No, Katniss,” he hisses at me. “Don’t.”

 

His fists are clenching the pipe to which his hands are cuffed. I release one hand. With my sense of survival still intact, I smack the empty iron cuff around the pipe so only one of his hands is free and the other is still bound. I pull his fingers free from their grip and whisper to him, “Please, Peeta. Please don’t fight me.” I don’t care if it’s one arm or two, I need to feel safe again, and only he can provide that.

 

“I could kill you,” he says with more fear than threat in his voice.

 

“But you won’t,” I press my lips against his in a hard stamp and wrap his struggling arm around my body. “You won’t.”

 

I can hear the distinct tremor in his voice when he asks, “But what if I do?”

 

And I say the only thing I can think of, so closely to his neck that I can feel the heat of my breath radiating off of his skin, “How ‘bout you don’t.”

 

He takes a brief pause before he lets out a tiny chuckle, then his whole body starts to tremor. There is an internal battle going on somewhere deep in his mind and I pray my old Peeta wins. I can physically feel his mental struggles. One second he’s the boy with the bread who will do anything to save my life. The next he’s the man that showed up in Thirteen and said hello by trying to choke the life out of me. Right now, I can’t wait for him to figure it out, because my insides are still quaking from the nightmare and I need the boy with the bread so badly, I’m willing to take my life in my hands to get him back.

 

I reach up and unlock his remaining cuff to which he says gruffly, “No. No,” squeezes his eyes closed, and violently shakes his head as though he’s trying to ward off the evil that lurks within his mind.

 

“Please, Peeta,” I quietly beg him while gripping his hand tightly to my chest. “I need you,” I say. “I need you.”

 

Something inside of him, a memory of our night on the beach maybe, flashes in his eyes and he clings to me with both arms. “Shh,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m here. I’m here now, Katniss,” Peeta says. “I’m here.”

 

“Are you?” I ask into his chest then search his face for my answer to find his blue eyes shining back at me through the dark. “Is it really you?” The second half of that question, “or is it Snow’s version of you?” went unasked.

 

“I hope so,” he answers in a breathy quiver. “I’m trying so hard, Katniss.”

 

“I know,” I keep my voice low and force it to be calm. Our eyes meet once again, and I can see the clouds in his fading away revealing an almost crystal clear ocean hidden behind.

 

When his hand cups the back of my head and presses me close to him, I know that my Peeta has conquered Snow’s, and I don’t want to waste a minute of time I have with him. I wrap my arms around his torso and one of my legs around his upper thighs. Using the heel of my foot, I pull him as close to me as possible and listen to him as he almost coos, “It was just a bad dream. It’s over now. It’s over.”

 

We both know it’s not over. That it may never be over, but I do what I had set out to: I tell him about my nightmare in search for comfort. “He had you,” I say. “Snow. He made me watch your torture and I couldn’t stop it. I tried, but I...I—“ The images of Peeta’s body convulsing and blood pouring from his tear ducts has me chocking out a sob and I’m unable to finish relaying my dream to him.

 

Peeta’s fingers dig into the back of my head and he presses his lips hard against my brow. His throaty, “It was just a bad dream,” followed by him dragging his lips across my own instantly pulls me from the horrors of my nightmare and sends me back in time. I am in a cave…on a beach, and Peeta’s kisses make me yearn for more. My fingers delve into his hair as I pull him closer to me and I am quickly lost in the feel of his lips against mine and the sensations that are stirring in my body. I have to wonder how I’ve gone so long without his kiss.

 

His hands are strong and unyielding as one sweeps up and down the side of my body and the other turns my head so my mouth is more accommodating. He rips his lips away from mine and murmurs hoarsely in my ear, “My God, I’ve missed you,” then his open mouth finds my own and I know that this is what I had imagined our reunion would have been like had he not been hijacked.

 

I want to tell him that I was a pitiful excuse for a human being while he was Snow’s prisoner, but my words are stuck in my throat and all that comes out is, “Me t…” which ends on a mewling sound.

 

Peeta whispers, “Shh. I know. Shh,” between our mouths to both console and quiet me. For a moment I forget that we are not alone in this room, that there are others who lay only a couple of yards away from us.

 

I should protest when his hand travels down my body and skims the swell of my breast, but I pull the fur blanket over our heads instead. Without thinking I choose to hide our long awaited reunion now coupled with an insatiable desire which is all consuming.

 

The air beneath the fur is hot and thick. Our lips are swollen and slick. My head falls backwards when I feel Peeta’s palm cupping my breast. I let out a low moan then bite my lip when he says with a hint of humor, “I’m glad you’re not crying anymore,” and I know without a doubt, even if it’s just for a moment, I have not lost him completely. The boy with the bread is still here and he is looking into the eyes of the girl that can make the birds fall silent.

 

Our faces are barely an inch apart when the reality of what is happening hits me; hits both of us, really. “Peeta,” I clasp his face between my hands and pepper him with kisses while he does the same to me.

 

Our words are a mishmash of, “I missed you. I was so worried about you. I didn’t know what to do,” and our names. We spoke each other’s names between each frenzied kiss as though we had to confirm we were in each other’s presence once again. Oh, how long we’ve both been waiting for this moment, waiting for me to keep the promise I made in the arena when I said, I’d see him at midnight.

 

“I’m late,” I whisper my thoughts out loud.

 

Peeta peeks out from beneath the fur then looks back at me and says, “Only a minute or two.”

 

I peer out to see where he was looking and see the old clock above the doorway that reads 12:02 am. He easily brings a smile to my face which quickly fades. There is a serious tone in my voice when I tell him, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” but it is spoken so quietly I’m unsure if he’ll hear me.

 

I can tell that he does when he traces a lone finger across my eyebrow and down my cheek then mouths, “I’m home.”

 

This little room is far from our houses in District Twelve and even further away from our residence in Thirteen, but he is right. “You’re home,” I mouth back to him and settle deeper into the arms that are more of a home to me than any roof under which I’ve ever lived.

 

“Katniss,” he says my name on a breathy sigh and my heart thumps so loudly I’m afraid I’ll wake the others. He looks at me as though he’s trying to remember every detail of my face then his sights travel over my hair. He threads his fingers through the ends and I feel a slight tug on my scalp when it gets caught in a knot, but he somehow works it through and begins to comb the ends over my shoulders. I allow him to take his fill, because I’m busy taking mine.

 

I drink it all in. The downy hair that curls at the ends and clings to a tiny patch of perspiration on his brow, his eyebrows that are a shade darker than his hair, the long blond eyelashes that have mesmerized me since we were in my bedroom back in Twelve, and the familiar blue of his eyes that stood out prominently from the mud where he was hidden. I trail my fingertips over his nose and trace the peaks of his upper lips then rest them on the full bottom one. I suck in a breath when I realize that I have committed his features…his _lips_ to memory, long ago. I close my eyes and think of another thing I have memorized: Peeta’s hands. I can see the shape of them behind my closed lids. The large, square palm, the long thick fingers that are strong enough to take a life yet gentle enough to turn sugar into sailboats and bring a plain sheet of paper to life with the slight strokes of his paintbrush.

 

Perhaps a sane person would startle at the feel of his powerful hands curling around their neck, but I only lay still and wait for the delicacy I know they are capable of too. I feel his thumbs graze up the hollow of my throat and his fingers dig into the back, just below the nape. He was right, he can kill me, but I can’t seem to move. I am frozen yet unafraid. When he speaks my name it floats through the air like a whisper in the wind and I let out a sigh that comes from so deep within me I feel as though I have lost all the air in my lungs. “Katniss,” he says again then presses the pads of his thumbs beneath my chin, gently lifting it upward and dips his head down until he kisses the exact spot he had left bruised upon his arrival to Thirteen. Each brush of his lips, as he breathes the words, “I’m sorry,” against my flesh, heals me in a way the cold collar, the medics in Thirteen placed around my throat, never could.

 

He pulls away from me and I can see the sorrow in his eyes. “I know you are,” I comb my fingers through the hair above his ears and try to ease the pain that is burdening his heart. I think of all the things I have said…the way I acted towards him after his rescue and I tell him, “I’m sorry too.” There are so many things I should be apologizing for…thanking him for, but my time with him is limited and I no longer want to waste them on words.

 

I have given him so little and taken so much that I silently pledge to stop fighting what’s been inside of me since I was eleven. I thank him for the bread that saved my family’s life, by pressing my lips to his. I thank him for reminding me about the dandelions and how I was able to continue to feed my family, by parting my mouth. And I thank him for sacrificing himself over and over again so that I may live, by placing his hand over my breast and curling my own on top of it.

 

I swallow the groan he emits between our lips and feel a burning desire shoot from a place deep within me; it reminds me of the kiss we shared during the Quell. I know we are once again in a place where danger lurks, that there are people in a deep sleep behind us, and I know that our next breath could be our last. This is why, when his fingers reach for the buttons of my shirt, I don’t stop him. A part of me needs to experience what I had been dead set against learning for the majority of my life. My body is parched and though I decided stubbornly, while Gale lay on my kitchen table bleeding, that he was the one I’d choose, in the dark of night…when there are no cameras, no curious onlookers, no one to tell me who I should love, I listen to my heart and allow Peeta in.

 

The first touch of his fingers against the swell of my bare breast has me holding my breath in wait. There are a million nerve endings ready to be ignited, and the second he brushes his fingertips against my hardened peak, sparks go off and sets my body aflame. I pant out, “Oh God,” against his mouth. This time Peeta silences me by holding my head steady and delving his tongue in and out of my mouth. The rough pads of his fingers gently pinch my nipple beneath the cup of my bra and then he lifts it out of its confines and covers the entire thing with his hand; gently squeezing it until I feel an ache in the V of my legs that is welcome and inviting.

 

I plunge my hands beneath the hem of his shirt and skim them up his back; curling them over his shoulders from behind. I must make some noise because Peeta is whispering, “Shh,” in my ear then peeks over the fur to make certain no one is watching. The gleam in his eyes and the impish grin he wears tells me that we have not been discovered and we pick up where we left off.

 

Peeta gets the rest of my shirt unbuttoned, but doesn’t remove it. He leans backward and spreads the flaps open, then dips his hand into the other cup of my bra lifting my breast from within so that they are both in view. He lifts the fur we are beneath, slightly up, so that the little bit of light flickering above the sink, illuminates my flesh.

 

I think of the first arena when I was so prudish in regards to nudity and grin at the absurdity of my timid reaction. I am no longer embarrassed by his eyes that drink me in. I am not flush with humiliation or vulnerability. I am eager. I am longing for his touch and when his mouth closes over the tip of my breast I am aching for more. I feel the heat of his tongue as it swirls and clamp my lips closed to silence the moan I want so badly to release. My flesh feels hot between his lips as he suckles the dark, swollen tip and I want… No. I _need_ him to treat the neglected breast to the same. My fingers plunge into his hair and I guide his open, wet mouth to its destination. The trail of moisture he leaves as he drags his tongue from one breast to the other steams my skin and I feel a pin prickle at the apex between my thighs followed by a wave of excitement that has me dropping my head back and offering my entire being to him.

 

I have to feel him. I have to feel his skin against my own so I pull his shirt off, foregoing the buttons, and leave it balled up by his head. It’s as though he can read my mind when his arms encompass me, doubling around my back, and our chests lunge forward flattening my swollen mounds between us. Our mouths bruise as we devour one another like we have been starved for months and only now have been allowed to feast.

 

Peeta’s fingers fumble between our bodies and I feel him releasing the button at his waist. Each tooth of his zipper being released explodes through the silent room like a chain of booms, but neither one of us seems to care. “Take this off,” he says gruffly as he plucks at my waistband, and I do as he requests with no questions or qualms.

 

His hips shimmy until his pants are just below the curve of his buttocks, and I rip one leg out of my pants and underwear all at once. My hand reaches for him, but I’m not sure what I’ll find or what to do once I find it, and when I grasp his hard shaft in my hand I am in awe of the contradictions that rest between his thick legs. That part of his body is rock hard yet shrouded in searing, liquid silk; threatening to brand my palm with its scorching heat. I make a sheath of my hand and glide it from the mushroomed tip of his erection to the patch of scratchy fur it sprouts from, but then all my thoughts vanish when Peeta pulls my bare leg over his hip and lunges his hand between our bodies to cup my wetness.

 

With his touch I am transported to a place where there is no one to overhear our stifled cries, to a place where I can follow my heart without repercussion, and lose myself in a world of pleasure where only Peeta and I reside.

 

There is a void within me that I have never noticed until this moment, and I am desperate to be filled. Peeta spreads me open and flicks at a spot that is hidden within. I let out a loud, “Aaaah,” that he smothers with his mouth. Neither one of us checks to see if we have awoken anyone. I reason with myself _, if they didn’t wake up when you screamed earlier, they won’t wake up from a few moans and groans_. That is all it takes for me to put thoughts of our roommates behind and start stroking Peeta once again.

 

Our hips begin to mimic the action I know we will soon be in the midst of; the push and pull of two lovers that are in a frantic need of release. I am no longer sound of mind and rationalize that my soon to be death is the only form of birth control we’ll need. I don’t flinch when he pushes my hand aside and tilts the tip of his erection towards my opening. I relax, because I know the pain is coming, but I also know it will only last for a moment. Peeta slides himself inside of me with one swift thrust then startles when I dig my fingers into his biceps and let out a gurgled cry into the crook of his neck.

 

“Katniss?” I feel his shoulders begin to shake as he realizes this is my first time. His eyes are frozen; burning into my own when he asks, “We’ve done this before. Real or not real?”

 

“Not real,” I answer with bated breath and watch as a series of reservations cross his face.

 

“Gale?” He asks.

 

I shake my head and say, “Not real.”

 

“My God,” I can feel his shaft begin to soften within my tight walls. “I didn’t know,” his hoarse voice is barely above a whisper. “I didn’t—“

 

“It’s okay, Peeta,” I stroke the hair away from his face and place a kiss on his shocked lips. “I want this. Don’t stop.”

 

The war raging within his mind has nothing to do with Snow’s torture and everything to do with Peeta’s morals. “Katniss,” he says my name and rests his forehead against my own. “I thought you and I—“ He furrows his brow and voices another of his assumptions, “That you and Gale—“ He lets his implication trail off. His voice fills with doubt as he asks, “Why me? Why now?”

 

I take one of his hands and press a kiss into the palm before cupping it over my breast. “Because—“ I try to find the right words, but I have never been good at voicing my emotions. I kiss him before I do something stupid, like cry.

 

Peeta pulls away from me and says, “I need to know what’s going on in your head first, Katniss.”

 

Like that, I am standing in District Two where Gale is analyzing my kiss and asks me, “ _What’s going on in your head?_ ”

 

At the time I was just happy to clear my mind. I answered Gale honestly and said, “ _I don’t know_ ,” because I never really know what I’m thinking when he kisses me.

 

But I know what I’m thinking now, and I tell Peeta, “Because when you kiss me, all I can think is…I want more.” I felt that way in the cave, and didn’t feel it again until Peeta kissed me on the beach during the Quell. It strikes me that even when we were apart I yearned for his kiss, that I have been craving it since the second arena. “I want more.” I brush my nose against his and repeat only one word, “More.”

 

Peeta’s head is slightly askew when he asks in a gruff tone, “More what?” He goes on, “More kissing? Touching?” His voice is restrained yet hesitant when he asks, “More of my heart?”

 

My smile is genuine and I feel serene when I answer, “Yes.” I lean in and place a soft peck against his lips and thrill when he sips delicately from mine.

 

“Please mean that, Katniss,” he speaks when our lips pull apart. Before I have a chance to respond he continues with, “Because…I know it doesn’t always seem like it lately, but right now…in this moment—“ I can feel his pulse drumming in his neck beneath the tips of my fingers. “I—“ he swallows thickly and finally tells me, “I love you, Katniss.”

 

His declaration shouldn’t come as a shock to me. I’ve known how he felt since the first Games, but Peeta has never actually said the words to me. I have spent years building a barricade around my heart so I would never succumb to these emotions. A month ago…a week ago…ten minutes ago, maybe I would have added a few more bricks to the invisible structure keeping him out; only that’s not what happens. What happens is the wall I so carefully built, crumbles to the ground and I am left naked, vulnerable to his words and gasping for air.

 

My reaction obviously worries him and he says teasingly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t last long. I’ll probably change my mind or forget by morning.”

 

I know he’s trying to ease what he perceives to be tension in me, by making a joke, but I don’t laugh. I hold him as close as possible and bury my face between the fur we lie upon and his ear then say softly, “Please don’t forget.” My hips begin to slowly move and my body clenches his, which brings his slightly softened shaft instantly back to life. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips are nuzzled just below my ear and shoots down to the tip of my toes. ”I don’t ever want you to forget,” I say in a strained voice.

 

Peeta rolls onto his back, taking me with him and I am now lying on top of him. He adjusts our covers in order to keep us hidden, and I kick off my pants and yank my arms out of my shirt. He finds the clasps at my back and releases my bra, and then my feet drag the rest of his clothing down his legs until he kicks them off. We are now flesh to flesh. Heart to heart. Our bodies are linked in the most intimate way possible and I need to hear it again. I need to know the man I have given myself to loves me, which is a first for me. “Say it again,” I speak against his lips as his hands bracket my face and his eyes bore into mine.

 

“I love you, Katniss.”

 

“Don’t stop saying—“ my train of thought abandons me and I am spellbound as Peeta’s hands take measure of every inch of my body, finally resting on the curve of my bottom and encouraging my movements.

 

“I love you,” he repeats it over and over again; in my ear, against my neck, in the midst of a tantalizing kiss. His words get lost in my hair when I rest my head against his shoulder and our motions under the covers transform me and I take flight. I am no longer the bird that symbolizes a revolution, but an eagle that knows no boundaries and was born into freedom; its wings spanning outward as it soars gracefully on a current of air.

 

I blurt it out before I can think to stop it, “I love you, Peeta.” I feel my throat threatening to close and tears burning at the back of my eyes. The enormity of my revelation paralyzes me with fear.

 

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down waiting for his reaction. He takes a deep breath and glides a hand over my back; splaying his fingers between my shoulder blades. “Thank you,” he gulps. There is a familiar smile in his eyes and I know he can see the fear in mine. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know you might change your mind too.”

 

His lighthearted comment is exactly what I need to dam the tears that threaten to spill out and I release a little burst of laughter.

 

Peeta’s face turns serious and he says, “I hope you don’t though.” He pulls me into a kiss and says between our swollen lips, “Please don’t change your mind, Katniss.”

 

“I woh,” is all I can get out as our bodies are now burning hot beneath the fur blanket, dripping with sweat and Peeta is so deep inside of me it feels like he is stroking my heart.

 

I move my hips faster and press my mouth to his. This is the only way we can both stay quiet, which has become more and more difficult the faster our bodies undulate. His hands are merciless as they rotate between kneading my breasts and squeezing their hard cores. The kiss we are using to stifle our moans turns into nothing more than our open mouths exchanging breaths as sharp as jagged shards of glass.

 

My movements are instinctive, unpracticed yet as natural to me as shooting an arrow. I feel as though I have always known Peeta this way, and still it’s all so new and exciting. My face is poised above his when I feel one of his hands traveling a path between us. His fingertips curl into my crisp, damp hairs. The chords in his shoulder slightly strain as he reaches further down and achieves his destination. The corners of his lips curve upwards when he finds the spot that takes my breath away. Our thrusts accelerate. His body grows harder. Mine softer…wetter…hotter, until I suck in a burst of air and slam my mouth onto his to silence my call of pleasure. I cannot see the fireworks that are exploding at my core, but I feel them bursting one after another after another. Then Peeta forcefully drives himself home and I welcome all of him. I watch his face distort as he spills himself inside of me and am in awe of its beauty.

 

The memory of him saying, “ _You’re so pure, Katniss_ ,” enters my mind and I think, _Yes. I am. We are._ What’s happening between us is as pure and untainted as virgin snow.

 

Our bodies tremor as we roll to our sides and let out a resounding sigh. We stare, but we do not move. I feel that part of his body softening until it slides out of me while my heart still beats thunderously in my chest. I am finally able to take a deep breath when Peeta pulls the fur off of our heads. The crisp air sooths my burning lungs, but I already miss the thick, moist heat we exchanged beneath it, only moments ago.

 

Minutes pass. Ten. Twenty. And Peeta stares off into the distance as though he is deep in thought.

 

I cup his cheek and ask, “Are you okay?”

 

He takes a minute before answering then says, “Yeah. It’s just so…quiet.”

 

I take a quick peek over my shoulder towards the unmoving bodies of our roommates and say, “They’re sleeping.”

 

“No,” Peeta holds my look of contemplation. “That’s not what I mean.” I can only describe his expression as tranquil when he tells me, “For months now there’s been a war going on.”

 

I lift a brow and wonder if he may be losing his wits again. “It’s the revolution, Peeta. That’s why we’re here.”

 

He sniffs out a little chuckle and settles himself deeper into the padding beneath us. “I meant, in my head.”

 

My lips form the word, “Oh,” but I don’t speak it.

 

“It’s like there are two of me in there. One telling me that you’re not to be trusted and the other fighting with it, saying that you’re the _only_ one I should trust.” He slides his arm out and we both rest our heads upon it. “I know there’s a war going on out there, but the one in here,” he taps at his temple, “it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to fight. Only now…now it’s quiet. It’s…peaceful.” He threads his fingers through the hair by my ear and rests his palm on my cheek. “The only voice I hear is yours telling me you love me.”

 

I know what he’s talking about. I have spent the majority of my life, especially these past few months, desperately trying to rid myself of the same thing. “At least you only have two voices in your head,” I say. “You should try listening to the ones in mine.”

 

“Who do _you_ hear?” He asks.

 

I’m not sure if this will set Peeta off or not, but it is so good to have him back in my life that I can’t keep from divulging it. I list off the people I hear, on a constant basis, whether they’re in my presence or not. “There’s President Snow, who threatens the very fabric of my being. Coin, Plutarch, Haymitch, all telling me I am the Mockingjay. The thousands of dead people crying out for vengeance from Twelve. And don’t get me started on years of Gale’s tirades about the Capitol.”

 

Peeta asks, with no signs of a flashback in sight, “They’re exhausting aren’t they?”

 

“Yeah,” I agree.

 

He studies me for a moment and asks, “Who’s in there now, Katniss? Who do you hear?”

 

I close my eyes and listen for the voices that have prevented me from living a normal life. The ones that have stripped me of my youth, turned me into something ugly and unforgiving, that want to snuff out my life and have stolen my ability to love without fear of consequences years ago. They are all gone for the moment. I hear nothing but the sound coming from Peeta. “I can hear you breathe,” I whisper. “It’s peaceful.” I keep my eyes closed and let it soothe me, but Peeta is quiet for so long that I’m afraid he’s fallen asleep. When I open my eyes, I see him staring at me and I wonder aloud, “Hear anybody now?”

 

“Still you,” he says and closes the gap between us. “Only now you’re saying, ‘More.’” He pulls the fur over our heads and shrouds us in darkness.

 

We decide, by tacit agreement, to move slowly this time. Regardless of our circumstances, there is no rush to finish.

 

Our first kiss is a revelation. It is a supple, drawn-out peck that causes my pulse to quicken just as much as the more in-depth, wet ones do. Our second kiss is a leisurely voyage that enables me to study his persuasive tongue…sharp-edged teeth…slick roof… I savor the flavor his tongue spreads over mine and across my lips. I try to equate it to a specific flavor, but there is only one thing that comes to mind: Peeta. When it is over I lick my lips, trying to draw out as much of it…of him, as I can onto my taste buds, but that is not enough, so I lean in for another yet I still can’t get my fill.

 

The palms of his hands lay flat against my breastbone then slide down. They skim up and down over my breasts until the tips are taut and stiff. His mouth leaves mine and nips my chin on his journey south. When he envelopes my nipple and suckles it deep inside of his mouth, my breath comes out in a slow flow of steam between my puckered lips.

 

My curiosity piques and I do what Peeta did earlier: lift the edge of the fur. The thin stream of light illumines our figures allowing me to see Peeta’s cheeks hollow as he sucks upon my breast. His eyes dance when they meet mine and he tilts his head slightly back to give me a clearer view. I watch as his tongue slides from between his lips and licks around the dark areola. It immediately tightens into a sharp point which Peeta lavishes. He moves from one to the other and licks around the flesh of my orb, but avoids the spot I want him most to touch. He continues his slow tongue bath, all the while looking up at me; measuring each of my reactions. My breath is choppy. My heart is racing and I am squeezing my thighs together hoping to relieve the wonderfully painful pressure that is building up between them. And then finally…finally, he pushes my breasts together so that they are touching, and draws a turgid nipple into his mouth. He tugs at the other with his finger and thumb so that neither one of them are neglected.

 

I feel his knee press between my thighs and immediately let out a throaty moan which I silence with my own fist. The fur I am holding up feels like it weighs a ton and I have to drop it before my burning muscles distract me from the glorious sensations Peeta is treating me to. I make an X with my arms behind his head and coil his hair into my fists. My head falls backwards as the harmony of sucks and slurps sings me an erotic song. He rams his knee upward and I ride it until my hollowness consumes me. “Please, Peeta,” my sandpapery voice begs him to put an end to this magnificent torment. Clasping his cheeks, I lift his face to mine and press a hard kiss to his wet and puffy lips. I reach beneath the covers for him, but he pulls his hips away and gives his head a slight shake.

 

“No,” Peeta says with an impish wink in his eye.

 

I want to yell, but there are people sleeping behind us that I’d rather not wake up. Instead I voice my sexual frustrations to him calmly, “Just stick it in already.” At least _I_ think it’s calmly.

 

He smashes his lips to mine then says, “Not yet.” His tongue traces the seam of my lips, but I keep them firmly clamped out of spite. Peeta curls a hand behind my head and says throatily, “Open up, Katniss. Let me in,” to which I immediately respond. Our tongues tangle together in a wide-mouthed kiss that leaves me vibrating with desire.

 

As I’m making my plans to throw the covers off of us, push him onto his back and take what I want, I mean, if these people haven’t woken up by now then they never will, Peeta replaces his knee with one of his masterful hands and spreads my folds open. I promptly forgive him for not following my orders when his fingers glide over my aching nub and slip inside of me.

 

“Oh,” I sigh against his lips and mine curls in pleasure.

 

Peeta pumps two fingers in and out of me and my breath hitches in my chest while the room begins to spin. His thumb begins to make light circles on my clitoris, and I am digging my fingers into his shoulders while my feet flex and my toes reach out and stretch. His free hand finds a nipple. His mouth finds the other. He is now tweaking…plunging…swirling…driving… immersing me in a multitude of sensations that causes my body to jerk and flood. I feel a hard spasm at my apex, bury my face in Peeta’s hair to muffle my screams, and ride the tidal wave until it saturates his palm.

 

My eyes are squeezed tightly shut and my jaw is slack. My head drops backward so I can gulp in a breath of fresh air, but it is so dense and humid beneath the fur, I feel like my lungs are about to combust. My eyes startle open when the fur is lifted from our heads and a cool rush of air smacks me in my face.

 

The sheer number of thoughts that goes through a person’s mind, in less than a second, is truly astonishing. _We woke the others. They think Peeta’s trying to hurt me_ , and my worst fear, _Gale overheard us. He knows what we’re doing. He’s going to kill Peeta_. But it’s none of those things.

 

I look up and bite my lips to stifle my chortle when I see Peeta smiling down at me with a devilish grin on his face and a mischievous gleam in his eye. He has lifted the fur up so high it slides up our legs and exposes our feet. He looks down the length of my body and encourages me to do the same with a jerk of his head.

 

I glance downward, but Peeta’s still on his side and his body is nothing but shadows while mine is glowing in the light. “I can’t see you,” I say much to my disappointment.

 

“Come here.” He drops the fur over our heads again and scoops me up in his arm in order to lay me on my back. He positions himself on the other side of me so that the light will hit us both, adjusts it so that our covers are actually covering us, and then lifts it again.

 

I can see him now. I reach out and touch his chest, spread my hand wide over the spot where his heart is racing, and place a kiss there. I am at a loss when Peeta does the same to me and I feel a surge of love so profound my stomach ties up in knots.

 

I feel something drumming against my hip and see Peeta’s cock twitching back and forth. It is nestled in a patch of hair that matches the shade of his eyebrows. “Oh,” I run a tentative finger over the tip and trace along the ridge. I follow the vein that forms a crooked path down the underside of his penis then wrap my hand around the base. I can hear Peeta’s uneven breathing; feel his body shudder. His reaction to my touch fills me with a sense of power and lust I immediately want to take advantage of.

 

Peeta’s fingers delve through my own dark patch of hair and he dips three of his fingertips inside of me. His unexpected touch has my back arching and distracts me from what I was doing. I can only imagine what my piercing stare looks like to him when our eyes meet. I’m not sure if I want to throttle him or forgive him when I see the smug expression that says, “You’re not the only one with that kind of power.” Since what he’s doing feels incredible and delights all of my senses, I decide to forgive him and continue to appreciate his form while casually stroking his length.

 

He is not as stocky as he once was, but that’s to be expected after spending so much time as a prisoner. Even though he was in Thirteen for a while, and had rations like the rest of us, his stomach is still concave. His hipbones are too pronounced and my nurturing side wants to take him back to my kitchen in Twelve and make him a hearty stew. Serve a loaf of fresh bread laden with creamy butter and watch him eat until his stomach is stretched full. “You need to eat,” I say to him.

 

With a playful wag of his brows he glances at my breasts and says, “I just ate.” Our chests rumble as we attempt to hold in our chuckles. Then he lets out this snort of laughter that has me feeling like a seventeen year old girl should. I take my hand off of him and cover my mouth while his lies still upon my hip.

 

I worry that we’re being too loud and lift my head up to peer over our covers. I wear an over exaggerated expression on my face that makes me look like I’m saying, “Eeeep,” and Peeta is snickering like a schoolboy into my shoulder. “Stop it,” I choke out in a whisper and playfully smack the back of his head, but I’ve got no room to talk considering my laughter is just as bad. I drop my head back and have to cover my entire face with both hands to smother my giggles.

 

We both make an, “Uh oh,” face and Peeta quickly hides us beneath the fur when we hear someone shifting across the room, but it is followed up by a series of loud snores that has him mouthing, “Who _is_ that?” And me shrugging my shoulders in reply. Eventually our laughter turns to smiles and though they fade from our lips they remain in our eyes.

 

I am suddenly aware that Peeta has done the impossible; he has brought humor back to my life at the most unexpected moment. I haven’t felt this young, foolish or alive since before my father’s death. The words, “Thank you,” form on my lips.

 

I have no idea if he truly understands my gratitude when he whispers, “You’re welcome,” but something inside of me longs to believe that he does, that he knows exactly what he has done for me.

 

We hold each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Peeta rolls on top of me and rests his hardness between my legs. Even though I’m defenseless to him in this position, the weight of him is comforting and secure, and I remain free of fear. I’m thrilled that our brief respite didn’t stem our appetites, because I am still hungry and equate my ravenous sexual desire to a hollow day. I will _never_ get my fill of the boy with the bread.

 

He rests his elbows alongside my head and frames my face with his hands. His fingers stroke the hair away from my brow then he brushes my lips with the pads of his thumbs. Our eyes lock as he dips his head down and plucks the spot he just touched, with his full lips.

 

My knees cradle Peeta’s thighs and I reach between us; guiding him to my entrance. This time he inches into me in one long, continual stroke until he is submerged to the hilt and cocooned deep within. His head falls backwards and he lets out a breathy, “Aaah,” then leans forward and places the lightest of kisses against my parted lips stealing the air from my lungs.

 

The sway of our bodies is unhurried…deliberate as if we’re trying to draw this union out as long as possible, because we both know…it can’t last forever. My hands explore the muscles in his back as they ripple then relax; the perfect synchronization of his bottom as it goes from pliant to firm to pliant again. I run my feet down the back of Peeta’s legs; one is cool and smooth while the hair on the other tickles at the ball of my foot. I liken the various textures…aromas…flavors of Peeta, to a passionate maze I never want to find my way out of and allow myself to get lost along each and every pathway.

 

Peeta brushes his stomach against mine as though he’s mixing our perspiration together like his paints; spreading them across the canvas of our flesh. I know without looking, that the final product will be exquisite. In this moment I see myself as Peeta sees me: beautiful and worth loving. I feel lighter as the ugliness that has weighed me down for years is expelled through the soft sigh I emit.

 

His hands find my own and he holds them alongside of my head using them as a source of leverage while the movements between us grow stronger. There is a soft scratching sound against metal in the water pipe behind us; perhaps a rodent looking for something to drink. It doesn’t worry me, if it were mutts we would be dead by now, but the sound catches Peeta’s attention. Instantly I feel the change within him. His body stiffens, his hands grip mine as though he’s pinning me down, not holding me close, and I know that Snow’s torturous voices are trying to worm their way back into his head. It’s odd that I’m not afraid of him killing me. Instead I’m terrified of losing him to the version of Peeta, Snow tried to turn him into. Lifting my lips to his ear I whisper softly, “Listen to _my_ voice, Peeta. Hear _me_.” I pause before I tell him, “I love you,” praying that it will be a beacon of light in the darkness of his mind and guide the real Peeta back to me. His body is frozen. His hands are fisted so tightly in my own that I can feel his nails beginning to dig into my flesh. “Look at me, Peeta.” I wait for his eyes to find my own. They are cloudy, but he is not completely gone yet. “I love you,” I say almost silently and the fog in his lifts within seconds.

 

Peeta pants out his relief and loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go of me. “It’s worse in the dark…” his body deflates while his head sinks onto my shoulder. “Worse when I close my eyes.”

 

I free my hands from his and move the fur just low enough so the light above the sink enables us to see one another clearly. Cupping his cheeks, I guide his worried gaze back to mine. “Then we won’t close our eyes,” I tell him and encourage him to slip back into the rhythm that was momentarily lost.

 

“Katniss,” Peeta says softly. I gingerly rest the tips of my fingers against his mouth to better feel my name upon his lips. I know I’ll use this, much like the pearl he gave to me, in the torturous days ahead. It will be a source of comfort to me when Peeta’s healing embrace is a thing of the past.

 

A current of electricity flows through our piercing stares that would put the lightening tree to shame. The power of it sends a surge of energy through my limbs and straight to my core. This time when I say it, it doesn’t tumble out and surprise me, nor is it used as a way to bring him back to me. For a second I think that maybe, had none of this happened to us, I would have eventually accepted his love for me, because this time the words are spoken from the deepest part of my heart, “I love you.”

 

The edges of Peeta’s eyes soften and his nose bumps mine. When he whispers, “More,” I know he’s asking me to say it for a second time.

 

A tender smile hints at the corner of my lips before I tell him again…and again…and again until the softly spoken words are just as vital to our lovemaking as our physical connection.

 

Our hands mimic the others; brushing hair away from a sweat covered brow so that we hide nothing and a lifetime passes between us as I climb towards my peak. I can still see the boy that took a beating to feed my family when we were just children, in the sweetness of Peeta’s features. I can hear the boy that risked his life with the Career pack to protect me in the Games, in each of his deep and determined breaths. I can feel the love of the man that volunteered for the Quell, who gave me the locket that freed me to have a life with another man, as if I could; all this and more shines from his loving gaze.

 

My chest feels constricted. The feeling spreads through to the tips of my fingers and toes. Muscles in both of our bodies are tightly clenched. We are reaching our final destination, and though I know it will be glorious, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want this journey to end. My body on the other hand, has a different opinion, and I feel the start of my orgasm ripping through me. I swallow my cry of pleasure holding it in the pit of my stomach as my mouth drops open and my nails dig into Peeta’s flesh. The look of devastation in Peeta’s eyes must mirror my own, because I, too, am in shock of the rippling explosions happening within me. Neither one of us could make a sound even if we wanted to as the air is trapped somewhere between our lungs and slack jaws; refusing to come out. The uncontrollable shuddering of our bodies seems to go on and on. It is then that I know what I’m feeling is, and always has been, inevitable. Whether or not I’d feel this way in the morning light, I don’t know, but right now I really have no choice. My love for him is as much a part of me as my limbs that are intertwined with his.

 

The effects of our orgasms are fading and Peeta lets out a little gasp; narrowing his eyes as though he’s trying to prevent them from closing while I suck in as much air as possible and arch my neck. He rests his head beneath my chin and I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders; hoping that our connection can hold off time. We lay this way until our racing hearts and choppy breaths return to normal. When Peeta leaves me and rolls onto his side facing me, I feel as though he has taken a piece of me, I never knew existed, right along with him. The clock above the doorway comes into view as I roll over to face him, but I don’t want to register the time. The seconds are ticking away and refuse to stop no matter how tightly we hold onto one another.

 

“Hey,” Peeta whispers and brings my thoughts immediately back to him. His palm is cradling my cheek when he says, “I love you, too.”

 

I snuggle up close to him and stroke the hair above his ear. “Don’t forget, okay?”

 

“I won’t forget if you don’t change your mind,” he grins then places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose.

 

We lay facing one another feeling replete and sated for the first time that night, but if he keeps looking at me as though we’re laying in a luxurious suite with nothing but time and freedom on our hands instead of holed up in an old, musty basement surrounded by sleeping rebels, I know the hunger will return with a vengeance. Why I’m not bringing this to his attention is a mystery to me, yet somehow he seems to know what I’m thinking. “We should get dressed,” he suggests.

 

My eyes finally fix on the clock, and though it doesn’t make a sound, I swear I can hear it ticking like a time bomb threatening to blow. It truly pains me to say, “Yeah. Guess so.”

 

We hand one another our clothes and try to put them back on while keeping our cover, but it’s useless. I sit upright, the fur falls down exposing my bare breasts to anyone in the room, and thread my arms through the straps of my bra. Peeta sits behind me and places a kiss in the center of my bare back. He rests his chin on my shoulder and hooks my clasps for me while whispering in my ear, “One day we’re going to do this again, and we won’t have to be quiet or hide.” I close my eyes and try to pull up that image, but I can’t.

 

Once we’re both fully clothed I sit with my knees pulled up to my chest and bury my face in my hands. I glance at the clock through parted fingers and see that it’s 4:01am. Gale will be awake soon. His internal alarm is conditioned from years of hunting to wake while most are still asleep.

 

“You okay, Katniss?” I hear Peeta whisper from behind me. “Having second thoughts about tonight?”

 

Am I? I don’t think I am so I turn to him and say, “No. No second thoughts.”

 

“Me either,” the little glimmer in his eye touches me and I sit next to him with my back up against the wall with our fingers linked between us. It’s 4:09 when Peeta slides his hand from mine and picks up the key to his handcuffs from the floor. One of the cuffs hangs open while the other is locked around a pipe, but Peeta quickly remedies that and places the heavy cuffs on my lap and closes my fist around the key.

 

I can’t seem to bring myself to put them back on him though. “Maybe you don’t need—“

 

“I do,” Peeta interrupts me. Deep, worried lines crease his forehead when he says with concern, “I need them.” Though he doesn’t say it, I can tell that his struggles have begun again. I reach for him and Peeta grabs my hand; placing a hard kiss into my palm before he lays it against his cheek. “Please,” he begs me in a strangled whisper.

 

I suck in a sharp breath and fight the tears that are burning my eyes. Peeta’s eyes are glistening when he gives me an encouraging nod, but I still can’t do it and shake my head, no. The teardrop that has escaped burns an acidic path down my cheek when Peeta slides the cuffs behind the pipes and locks one of his wrists in.

 

His pain filled voice speaks to me, “It’s time, Katniss,” but I don’t want to listen.

 

My teeth are chattering while another tear falls. My eyes dart from Peeta to the clock, 4:13, then back again. He lifts his free hand and pulls my face to his, breathing his words against my lips. “Please don’t change your mind.”

 

I swallow hard and the dam of tears finally burst when I kiss him and say, “Please don’t forget.” I press my mouth to his; putting all the pain, anguish and love I’m feeling into the kiss; my fingers trembling while I lock his other hand to the pipe. When I pull away I notice that he has been kissing me with his eyes wide open and now it’s my turn to be strong and give him permission to face the dark. Summoning up my courage; knowing full well once I let him close his eyes I’ll probably lose him to Snow, I swallow my fear and say, “It’s time, Peeta.” I kiss one of his eyes then the other; forcing him to close them, and place one more lingering kiss upon his lips. I shove the key in my pocket and scramble back to my fur nest, pulling the cover over my head so that only the tip of my nose is sticking out and I can see through a tiny slit.

 

I watch the clock as my tears dry to flecks of white salt upon my cheeks. 4:16 and I can’t breathe. 4:19 and I hear the first stirrings coming from Gale’s spot. 4:24 and I’m losing myself to the voices, including my own, and asking, what the hell I was thinking giving into the passion Peeta stirs within me. I silently begin to lecture myself, _There’s a war going on. People are trying to kill me…_ Then my thoughts do an about face and I tell myself to stop regretting what happened between us or I’ll drive myself crazy. I could have died today…probably will die tomorrow or the day after, and if I hadn’t allowed myself this one night I’d never know what it was like to truly be loved. 4:28 and the sound of Gale coming to life echoes quietly through the room.

 

Unable to face Gale, I shut out the world and try to use the exercise my head doctor suggested. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m seventeen…_ But these thoughts, the ones that have helped to keep my feet on the ground, can’t be found. I keep hearing Gale’s rants about the Capitol, Snow threats, and worst of all, Haymitch’s voice asking if I was having boy troubles.

 

I squeeze my eyes closed and search for what I know to be true. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old… Seventeen years old… Seventeen years old…_ But it’s not working. I can’t seem to shut the voices off in my head. That’s when it happens. I hear Peeta breaking through the chaos; telling me he loves me. Then the truth pours down around me and drowns out the rest; leaving me washed clean and feeling more alive than I have in years. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. Peeta made me feel like I was actually seventeen years old. He showed me that I am still young and beautiful, that life can be worth living, and that I am still capable of loving someone…capable of being loved._ This is my last thought as sleep consumes me.

 

I wake to the sound of Gale’s voice, “Katniss. Hey.” He shakes me gently and tries to rouse me again, “Katniss.” I finally open my eyes and see that it’s just 4:49am. “Sorry,” he says to me. “I know you’re tired, but I think you need to check on Peeta’s wrists. They look worse.”

 

My head snaps towards Peeta who isn’t exactly pressing his wrists into his cuffs, so Gale doesn’t look worried for me, but Peeta’s internal struggles are more apparent to me than the others. “I’ll take care of it,” I say as nonchalantly as possible; afraid my voice will give away too much to Gale.

 

I unhook one of Peeta’s cuffs and notice the fresh blood on his wrists and smeared tinges of pink on his fingers I’m certain didn’t come from his injuries. Peeta’s breath is a little uneven when I guide him towards the sink, and there are questions mixed with looks of accusation in his eyes. The water is trickling out; washing the evidence of last night down the drain along with the new blood from Peeta’s wrists.

 

“Katniss?” Peeta’s eyes narrow harshly. “Last night…real or not real?” I can feel his stare burrowing into me, but I don’t look directly at him for fear that it’ll destroy the wall I reconstructed around my heart during my few minutes of sleep. “Real or not real?” Peeta quietly insists on an answer and gives his hands a yank. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Gale isn’t listening. When I see him watching me and Peeta with a keen eye, I give my head one quick shake hoping to silence Peeta, neither confirming nor denying that it was real. This simply isn’t the time to discuss it, but the wave of nausea that comes over me when I think of all Peeta is going through is too much for me to bear. I turn back to him, ready to whisper, real, but Peeta’s back is to me and he’s already making his way back to his spot on the floor.

 

Struggling for a way to let him know it _was_ real without alerting Gale, I say, “You need to eat,” hoping the phrase that made us laugh will be enough.

 

But all he says is, “I’m not hungry,” and glares at a spot on the wall. The pupils in his eyes are as large as saucers and I can barely see a sliver of blue.

 

I tell myself, _It won’t matter now anyway. He won’t believe me_.

 

Sliding his cuff behind the pipe, I’m just about to chain him in when three of his fingers close tightly around mine and squeeze. Like one of Beetee’s pirated transmissions, the Peeta I know breaks through the madness in his mind and whispers with equal parts of hope and desperation, “I haven’t forgotten Katniss so don’t change your mind, okay?” And then he’s gone.

 

I close the shackle around his wrist and risk it all, “Real, Peeta,” but the reservation in his eyes tells me he thinks I’m lying. He turns away from me, closes his eyes and I go back to my bed of furs and dream of Effie Trinket trying to keep me on some type of schedule. Though I sleep till midafternoon, I wake feeling drained and lifeless.

 

Peeta and I hardly speak throughout the remainder of the day. In fact, I barely acknowledge his presence until I tell everyone in the room about my plan to kill the president. There is simply too much to worry about for me to give into any emotion with the exception of my hatred for Snow.

 

Evening provides a dinner of stale bread, moldy cheese and mustard. We watch the updates on the war on Tigris’s old television set, then head back to our hideout where wounds are cleaned and bandages changed. There is still no mention of what occurred between Peeta and I and I fear that he’ll never remember loving me. I take to my bed of furs and pelts feeling alone and undeserving of the love Peeta had for me my whole life long. I close my eyes, using the memory of my name on Peeta’s lips to guide me into my slumber, because facing the truth is simply too painful.

 

In the wee hours of night I wake and hear them; Gale and Peeta talking with one another almost like they’re friends. At one point they even share a chuckle, but then their talk turns to love and I want to hide under a rock because the furs covering me feel as though they’re transparent.

 

What happens next almost confirms my suspicions. Peeta either thinks last night was a dream, a lie, or he simply doesn’t remember “She loves you, you know,” says Peeta. “She as good as told me after they whipped you.”

 

“Don’t believe it,” Gale answers. “The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell…well, she never kissed me like that.”

 

“It was just part of the show,” Peeta says with an edge of doubt and a tiny part of me is hanging onto that edge by my fingernails.

 

“No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that’s the only way to convince her you love her.” There’s a long pause before Gale says he should have volunteered for Peeta in the first Games to protect me.

 

Their conversation continues with Peeta telling Gale I never would have forgiven him if he hadn’t stayed behind to take care of my family. Peeta still knows that they mean more to me than anything.

 

“Well, it won’t be an issue much longer,” Gale says. “I think it’s unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it’s Katniss’s problem. Who to choose.” I can’t see Gale stretching, but I can hear it in his yawn. “We should probably get some sleep.”

 

“Yeah.” The sound of Peeta’s cuffs sliding down the pipes fill me with guilt as he settles into his bed. “I wonder how she’ll make up her mind,” he says as though he’s wondering aloud.

 

“Oh, that I do know.” I catch Gale’s words through the layer of fur. “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.”

 

The icy shiver that runs down my spine as I hear my best friend talking about me as though I’m cold and uncaring not only hurts, but angers me. And Peeta’s lack of response has me burning hot. Whatever guilt I had earlier is gone in a flash. I want to jump up and yell that I wouldn’t choose either one of them at the moment, but I don’t. I just lie there and welcome the ugliness back into my heart. They can both go to hell for all I care.

 

The silence in the room is almost eerie as I let the anger fester within. In a span of seconds I convince myself that it was a mistake to tell Peeta I loved him, but then his voice cuts through the inky darkness, “You’ve known her for years, and you still don’t see her.” My eyes fly open in time to see Gale glancing in Peeta’s direction then ducking beneath his fur.

 

Nothing else is spoken between them and in the morning, when I wake, I don’t lick my wounded ego or analyze Peeta’s comments. I do catch his eye though while we watch more on the war, and there is nothing there. No spark of recognition. No question as to whether or not something special happened between us. His look is distant…indifferent.

 

I think of the little glimpse of Peeta who gripped my fingers so tightly saying, _“I haven’t forgotten Katniss so don’t change your mind, okay?”_

But Peeta does forget.

 

And I have no choice but to change my mind.

~~~

 

There are five stages of grief, at least that’s what Dr. Aurelius says when I talk to him on the phone: denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. He says most people go through them at various stages, but after Prim’s murder I’m certain that I experience the first four all at once.

 

It takes months for me to move on with my life after the war, but I do it with Peeta’s help. The day I reach the fifth stage of grief: acceptance… Well, that night really, Peeta’s arms are around me and his lips find mine in the dark after a terrible nightmare. He started sleeping with me again a couple of months ago and didn’t kiss me till three weeks ago. They were only light pecks, but they were enough to bring me a bit of relief. Tonight though…tonight when he kisses me I am quickly taken back to a time when I was sitting on a beach…beneath a pile of furs…

 

The bedroom is dark…shadowed, but far from pitch black which enables me to see Peeta fairly well. His eyes are closed when he kisses me, and there is an air of tranquility about him that makes my heart sing. We pull apart and Peeta holds my gaze as though he’s contemplating something. I can tell when he makes his decision by the spark in his eye. “You love me,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

 

A year ago…a month ago…this morning even, I would have never thought of myself as lucky, but acceptance is a _very_ powerful thing, and lucky is exactly what I am. There aren’t many that can say that they’ve experienced the love of two men, but I have. I took them both for granted for far too long, and though it was Gale my head told me was the safe and smart choice, my heart had other ideas. I have finally accepted the inevitable. My fingers trace the scar above Peeta’s brow and the one by his lower lip. “Real,” I whisper back and lean in for a tender kiss which quickly turns to one of passion. My fingers are delving into his hair, pulling him closer and I can feel Peeta’s excitement grinding into my belly. Hopping onto my knees, I yank my sleep shirt off and shimmy out of the matching pants.

 

Peeta stares at me in disbelief then asks, “Are you sure, Katniss?”

 

“Yes,” I tell him and skim my remaining garment off while Peeta fumbles at the buttons of his shirt. “Hurry up,” I reach for the bottom buttons to help him and let out a playful giggle which brings on a broad smile from him.

 

“I am hurrying,” he chuckles as his pants hook onto his erection on their way down his body. “Damn pants,” he complains then rips the rest of his clothes off and throws them to the side.

 

Lying on my back I lift my hand to him and say, “Come here.” By the eager way he rolls on top of me, I know he’s as anxious as I am. I have no desire for foreplay, I’m plenty excited. All I want is to feel that sense of being complete Peeta gave to me on a dark night beneath a pile of furs.

 

Reaching down, he glides his fingers between my folds and grins when he finds me primed and ready.

 

He enters me in one slow, gentle motion and I let out a resounding, “Ah.”

 

Peeta on the other hand, stops and stares down at me. He reaches over and taps the spot on our headboard that turns on the bedroom lights and asks, “We’ve done this before. Real or not real?”

 

This time when he asks me about that night I don’t hesitate to answer, “Real.”

 

He makes a little sniffing sound then presses his forehead against my drumming heart and speaks against my chest, “I thought it was a dream…a fantasy.” He looks at me. “Something my mind created as an escape when things got to be too hard to handle.”

 

“You forgot,” I stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. You remember now.”

 

He glares a little then says with a hint of humor in his voice, “Yeah…well… _you_ changed your mind.”

 

“Maybe,” I pause, “but I changed it back.” I smile up at him. “Now shut up and kiss me.” Thankfully I don’t get any arguments from Peeta.

 

There’s a noticeable difference in our lovemaking this time. It’s not a desperate meeting of two people at the end of their lives, but the start of something magnificent.

 

We move slowly at first, and then pick up the pace. I think that neither one of us is going to last very long at this rate, but then Peeta pulls himself from within me and I start when he kisses a path down my body. There’s no doubt where he is headed and for a split second I’m worried, but then our eyes meet and I can’t imagine denying him anything when I see the hunger inside of them. I prop up on my elbows and watch him intently; spreading my knees for him when he gently pushes one to the side. He licks his lips when he stares down at me, and I know I’m on full display to him, but that only causes my sexual awareness to heighten.

 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs before placing a kiss on each of my inner thighs then brushes his nose against my furry patch. “So beautiful,” he says then dips his tongue into the place where only he has been.

 

Braced on my forearms, I try my hardest to watch what he’s doing to me; the way he drapes one of my legs over his shoulder and pushes the other up so that I am open to him, but my arms are weakened with desire and I fall backwards. The feel of his tongue lapping up and down then focusing on my pressure point has me spiraling towards my finish within seconds. I bite my lip in order to silence my screams, but then I remember Peeta’s words from so long ago, _“One day we’re going to do this again, and we won’t have to be quiet or hide,”_ and I let my cries of release call out to the night.

 

Instead of Peeta climbing up my body and picking up where we left off earlier, my orgasm seems to stimulate him as he begins to lightly suck my responsive clit into his mouth. I try to tell him to stop, because it’s too sensitive, but all I can muster up are a few breathy, “N…ns,” and I allow him to render me speechless. The decadent sensation he stirs within me when he switches from sucking my clit to flicking his tongue back and forth is driving me crazy with the need for completion and I fist his hair in my hand while I let out a resounding moan. The noises echoing through the room are a mixture of Peeta slurping…groaning, and my screams. Two of his fingers find their way into my sleek channel, a pale comparison to the hard shaft burrowing into leg, but stimulating nonetheless. As he works his fingers in and out of me, he sucks my tingling bud, until I feel as though I’m going to burst from my skin. Ripping his face from between my thighs he growls up at me, “Hold your legs open.” I hadn’t realized that my thighs were squeezing his head. Following his guidance, I do what he asks. I feel him use his fingers to spread my center open, glance down at him, and see that he’s staring straight at it.

 

I have no time to feel embarrassed as he lets out an, “Oh yeah,” then hungrily attacks me as though I’m his last meal while simultaneously pumping his fingers and out of me. I pinch the tips of my own breast further stimulating myself; thinking that it’ll push me towards my precipice, but it’s the feel of Peeta squeezing my nub and lightly nipping at it that throws me into a violent spasm.

 

He greedily laps up my juices and murmurs, “Mmmm,” between my slick lips causing them to vibrate.

 

All I can think is that I’m spent when he slowly makes his way up my body. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to go on, but Peeta takes his time on his journey up my body. The kisses he places against my skin take me slightly aback when I realize that he’s concentrating on the scars from that terrible day so many months ago. Tears fill my eyes when I think of the ugly reminders that permanently mark my body and serve as a reminder of that part of my life, but the sadness doesn’t last long, because the look of love on Peeta’s face makes me feel so cherished I lose myself in his adoration. By the time his body is covering mine and his lips are hovering a hairsbreadth from my own, my wanton craving has been rekindled and I feel a surge of energy. Gently pushing him onto his back I follow the same path he took with me and kiss each and every scar. Yes, they are a reminder of the war, but they are also reminders that we still remain. That we are alive, and life can be good again if only we let it. He threads his fingers through my hair when I reach the scar to the left of his navel, allowing me to make the decision to take him into my mouth for myself. If only he knew there was no choice to be made. I have to taste him, much like he had to taste me. I need to know every square inch of his body. Lightly clasping the base of his erection, I run the tip of his penis across my lips and murmur, “Mmmm,” against it.

 

His eyes roll back in his head when I dip my tongue into the little slit on top and run my tongue all the way down until it meets my fingers. “Oh God,” he croaks out and that feeling of power I had on that fateful night is back with a vengeance. I’m not sure what I’m doing, so I keep running my tongue around his vibrating member until he whispers hoarsely, “Take it in.” His words cause a rush of heat to pool between my legs, but when I do as he instructs and put my entire mouth over him, I swear I’m going to erupt once again from the pulsating of his erection against my tongue. His fingers find my cheeks and he wordlessly guides to move my head up and down. My hand strokes him out of instinct and Peeta’s legs shoot straight out. I’m at it for a minute, maybe two when he wraps a handful of my hair around his hand and tries to pull me off. “Katniss. Stop,” but I don’t. “Jesus,” he throws his head to the side and tries to yank my head off, but my actions are fueled by a desire to please him the way he me. “I can’t— Shit!” He finally gives in and now his hand in my hair is encouraging me to take him deeper into my throat. “Suck it harder,” he growls. I not only do as he asks, but I squeeze his rod in my hand too which has him grunting and pumping into my mouth until I taste the saltiness of his release upon my tongue. I lick and swallow until he is clean then kiss a path up the center of his body. Wondering if it’s just as exciting for him as it is for me, I flick my tongue against one of his nipples. When it pebbles beneath my tongue I lightly nip at it and hear him groan in pleasure. “What are you doing to me?” He cradles my cheeks in his strong hands and brings me up for a kiss that is so smoldering it sucks the air out of the room. I can taste the muskiness of myself on his lips, which I honestly thought would turn me off, but the piercing I feel in my center contradicts that theory. “That was amazing,” Peeta says to me and I feel a sense of pride from his simple praise.

 

“For me too,” I roll off of him and lay on my back wishing we weren’t through yet. The idea that we have the rest of our lives for moments like this is the only thing that appeases me.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He scoops an arm beneath my back and pulls me under him. My eyes widen in delight and the wattage from his smile brightens the already lit room as his still engorged heat burns between my legs. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he grins devilishly.

 

Peeta leans down and whispers in my ear, “Spread your legs,” and I’m sure I’m going to pass out from the sheer thrill of his raspy words. My bent knees fall open and he says, “Wider.” Now I know I’m going to pass out. My legs strain as far as they can go while he poises himself at my opening. With only the very tip inside of me a gurgle escapes from the back of my throat and my hands grip the cheeks of his ass encouraging him to proceed. He pulls out of me, much to my disappointment, then enters me again; teasing me with only an inch or two of his hard cock. After the fifth time I realize that this torture he’s putting me through is almost enough to send me over the edge and I grit my teeth trying to hold it off until he’s fully submerged. I beg him with my eyes, because I have lost the ability to speak other than the occasional, “Unf,” that comes from me, but Peeta is relentless. Over and over again he dips the tip in and yanks it out and then finally he burrows deep inside of me and every part of my body screams out in pleasure as my muscles clamp down on him and shower him in pleasure. I hear Peeta’s pleased, “Oh yeah,” but it barely registers with me as he continues to plunge and retreat, plunge and retreat… I don’t remember him being this big the first time we had sex and I feel so full I think I just might split apart. He scoops his arms beneath my knees spreading my legs even further and grinds his hips against me.

 

My eyes fly open when his cock grows longer and thicker inside of me and my whole body tenses. “Peeta,” I breathe out.

 

The expression on his face instantly changes from sheer desire to worrisome. “Am I hurting you?” He drops one of my legs and brushes the hair away from my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he leans in and places a soft kiss against my lips.

 

“It’s okay,” I pant out. “Just give me a second.”

 

“Relax, Katniss,” he says against my lips. “Close your eyes and relax.” He wraps my legs around his waist to free up his hands then lets them roam over the curve of my hip...the swell of my breast…the round of my ass.

 

I let out an, “Ohhh,” when his fingers lightly dip between the crevice of my bottom.

 

“You like that?” Peeta whispers in my ear and I nod. “Mmmm,” he says while he gives my bottom a gentle squeeze. “I like that too,” he says seductively. “So smooth…firm.” He starts to move again, and I want to relax, but all I can do is think, _Christ, where the hell did this version of Peeta come from_? The tip of his tongue outlines one of my nipples then he blows on it and it tightens so much it almost hurts. A second ago the slight burning between my thighs had me worried, now it’s heightening my arousal and I dig my fingers into Peeta’s biceps. “That’s it,” he says softly in the valley between my breasts, “take it all in,” he buries himself as deep as he can go and I realize that Peeta’s gift with words are as powerful in the bedroom as they are in front of a live audience. One wouldn’t think that words could be an aphrodisiac, but when Peeta tickles my chin with his breathy, “God, I love your ass,” I’m convinced that I could come to the sound of his voice.

 

“Harder,” I moan into his ear.

 

“This?” He rams himself inside of me. “Or this?” He squeezes my ass so hard I arch my neck and let out a resounding cry. “Oh,” he says wickedly, “both,” he drags the word out. I meet him thrust for thrust and wonder how the hell his cock can get even bigger, and if I’ll have room for it.

 

He tears himself from inside of me and I ask, “What are you—“

 

Peeta interrupts me and says gruffly, “Roll over.” I get onto my stomach and he pulls me up on my knees and pushes my shoulders down so that my glossy sex is staring right up at him. “Oh my God,” he moans then places a kiss on one cheek then the other. “You’re so beautiful,” he says; easing any self-doubt I may have had about being in this position. Pushing my hips back, I feel his engorged cock gliding between the crease of my ass and I grind myself against him even harder. My encouraging behavior has him rubbing it up and down my wet slit then entering me. When his swollen tip splits me open I don’t tense up, because the things Peeta is doing to me has me so excited I shove a pillow in my mouth and bite down. “Don’t do that,” he leans forward and tosses the pillow to the side, but when he does that he touches a spot within me that I never knew existed.

 

“Sweet Jesus,” I scream out and feel a flood of my excitement coat his shaft.

 

Peeta swirls his hips and says, “There?” which my whimpering answers. The sounds and scents of sex fill my senses and I lose myself in Peeta’s maze all over again. Grinding myself against him each time his cock comes in contact with that spot, Peeta groans out, “Squeeze me.” I tighten my walls around him then release; following this pattern until his breathing is bellowing out. One of his hands grips my hips encouraging my movements while the other reaches around me and pinches my bundle of nerves. I hear Peeta’s loud grunt and feel him swell. The hand Peeta had on my hip travels between us and grips my ass.

 

I know Peeta’s trying to hold off coming until I do, but I don’t think I’ve got it in me no matter how excited I am. Once again I am proven wrong as Peeta presses his thumb between the cleft of my ass, pinches my clit and growls in my ear, “Come on, Katniss.” The earsplitting scream I let out as he rams himself into me, causing us to surge up the mattress, has Peeta grunting, “Fuck yeah! Come on my cock,” his words are so unexpected and downright stimulating, I find myself having one orgasm on top of another. Peeta splashes his release deep inside of me with a guttural cry and then we both collapse onto the mattress; his body crushing me in the process, but oh, it feels so good.

 

The sound of our panting echoes through the room while our sweaty bodies melt into one another. Peeta is still throbbing inside of me as a thousand thoughts fill my head. _That was unexpected not to mention incredible. Was that really Peeta ordering me to spread my legs?_ But it’s this last thought that actually worries me _. Where the hell did he learn to do all of that_? I begin to think that maybe Peeta has done this before with other girls, and I can feel a rumble of anger beginning to brew within my belly.

 

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks against my back.

 

“Nothing.” I have no idea why he asked me that.

 

“Your entire body just tensed.” He thinks that it’s the weight of him, “Am I too heavy?”

 

I could tell him, yes, so it will solve my current dilemma, but I'm torn between how good it feels to have the weight of him pressing me down, and the jealousy that lurks within the pit of my stomach.

 

“Katniss?”

 

“No,” I reach behind me and give him a reassuring pat. “You’re fine. Don’t move.”

 

We lay that way for a few minutes; all the while my head is spiraling out of control. _What if he did these things with someone we went to school with? He did say he noticed just about every girl._ Then my thoughts change. _Oh my God! What if President Snow did to Peeta what he did to Finnick? What if Peeta was sold to the highest bidder while in captivity_?

 

Peeta rolls off of me and lays facing up while I remain on my stomach. “Okay. Start talking.”

 

I narrow my eyes at him and wonder how he knows something is bothering me. “That was good,” I tell him.

 

The blue of his eyes sparkles at me and the corner of his mouth curls up with enough sweetness to melt my heart. “For me too.” He rolls onto his side, brushes his lips against my shoulder and trails a hand down my spine.

 

“Really good,” I say in an almost accusing tone. “A little too good.”

 

I think I see a little flair of question in Peeta’s eyes, but it’s gone in less than a second and it’s replaced with one of love. He trails a finger over my cheek and pulls the hair that’s plastered to my face with sweat, behind my ear. “I love you,” he says, and I close my eyes in shame from the guilt I feel over the accusation in my voice.

 

Trying to convince myself that his experience with other women doesn’t matter, all that matters is how we feel now, I look at him and say, “I love you, too.”

 

“Good,” he grins. “Remember that, will ya?” He gives me a quick peck and heads to the restroom.

 

While he’s gone I keep telling myself that Peeta and I love each other and that’s enough. We’ve gone through hell to get to this point, and I’m not going to throw it away because of some stupid, girlish notion that I should be the only person Peeta’s ever been attracted to or had sex with.

 

I blow out a deep cleansing breath and feel Peeta’s lips trailing down my back kissing each bump of my spine until his lips lay motionlessly against my tailbone. “Open your legs,” he whispers.

 

“Again?!” I’m shocked at his ability to keep going.

 

“No,” he chuckles. “Just open your legs,” he laughs a little harder.

 

I spread them open and feel moist heat pressing against my center. “Ohhhh,” I sigh.

 

“Feel good?”

 

My whole body relaxes when I say, “Yes.”

 

Climbing over me, he rests on the side of the bed I think of as his. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

 

“It only hurt a little.” I reassure him, “It was better after a minute or so.”

 

“I’ll be gentler next time,” he says with a concerned expression plaguing him.

 

“Peeta,” I lift my head up a little so I can see into his face, “I liked it.” I can feel myself flush a little when I confess to him, “I liked it a lot. Okay?”

 

Trailing a finger over my chin, he says, “Okay.”

 

I lie back down and rest for a few minutes before Peeta gets up and replaces the wet cloth soothing my delicate skin with a dry one. The tenderness he shows me has my stomach fluttering. I roll onto my back and cup his cheek. “I love you,” I bring him down to kiss me.

 

“Mmmm,” he murmurs against my lips. “The first time you said that to me I was inside of you. Real or not real?”

 

I sniff out a hint of laughter, because I know he remembers the answer to that question, but I answer, “Real,” anyway and feel him smile against my cheek.

 

Peeta gathers me in his arms and I rest my head against my favorite spot in the middle of his chest. I think he’s asleep, until he says, almost frantically, “Katniss, we didn’t use any protection. I mean…I can’t have a—” He doesn’t say the word, “baby,” but you don’t have to be a genius from District Three to know what he means. “What if I have a flashback and— and—”

 

“Don’t worry,” I pat the spot on his chest next to where my head rests. “I’ve been on birth control for a while now.”

 

He blows out a sigh of relief against the top of my head. At least five minutes go by, enough time for Peeta to calm his frazzled nerves, when he asks, “That night in Tigris’s basement too?”

 

“No.” I try not to dwell on how stupid I was thinking my death would be enough to prevent a child.

 

“Oh.” I let out a satisfied sigh and close my eyes intending to fall asleep, but then Peeta asks, “When did you start taking it then?”

 

“A little while ago,” I say absently.

 

Peeta rolls us onto our sides so that we’re facing each other. “Like when?”

 

“I don’t know,” I say with frustration; wanting to avoid this line of questioning, because the answer doesn’t shed me in the best of lights. “Just a while. That’s all.”

 

“A couple of weeks? After the first time I kissed you?” He’s obviously going to be like a dog with a bone and not drop the subject.

 

“No,” I roll my eyes.

 

He raises his brows insisting on an answer, “Then when?”

 

“Fine,” I say as though defeated. “After you spent the first night here.”

 

I expect him to think that all I wanted him for was sex, but Peeta lets out a belly laugh and takes me in a hug rolling us from side to side. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I don’t know.” I smile against his chest. “I didn’t want you to think I was expecting anything from you, I guess.”

 

“Oh Katniss,” he sighs and rolls me on top of him. “Do you have any idea how much sex we could have had these past few months?”

 

He lets out a loud laugh and I push away from him. “You’re an ass,” I say playfully then crush my mouth to his.

 

The sun is almost ready to rise when we lay sweaty and spent after several rounds of lovemaking. The lights have been on all night and the air has been filled with laughter, passion, and most of all, love. I lay with my head listening to the soothing sound of Peeta’s heart beating. I reach up blindly and tap the spot on our headboard that shuts the lights in the bedroom off. “Peeta? You awake?”

 

Though he answers, “Mmmm hmmm,” he is barely conscious.

 

“The sun is rising,” I tell him as I look through the glass doors that lead to a private balcony. A dusty shade of grey forms a break between the inky black sky and the bright pink glow that promises to bring a beautiful day.

 

The dawn brings with it a sense of gratitude and serenity that fills my almost sated soul, but there is still an element of my life that is left unsatisfied and I know that there is only one way…only one person that will ever fill the void within me. “Marry me?” I ask quietly.

 

I expect Peeta to say, yes, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “I thought you didn’t want to get married.”

 

“I didn’t.” I turn my head so I am looking into his face.

 

“Change your mind again?” He asks.

 

“Yeah,” I answer with a tender smile.

 

He studies me for a moment then blows out a breath. I worry for a moment, but then I remember that this is Peeta and he’s been in love with me since we were five years old. “Katniss,” his voice takes on a serious tone. “Can I tell you something without you getting mad at me?”

 

Not wanting to lose the calmness I feel inside, I say with a dry, teasing tone, “I’m not making any promises I can’t keep.”

 

Peeta lets out a little chuckle, and then says, “Okay. How about this? Can I talk to you about something without you storming off?” He studies me for a second before continuing, “I need you to stay with me, even if what I say makes you angry, and talk it through with me.”

 

There’s a nervous flutter in my stomach which I decide to ignore. “I can make that promise,” I assure him.

 

“Okay. Good.” Peeta takes my hand and thinks for a second. “First and foremost, I want you to remember that I love you with everything that I am, Katniss.”

 

I give him a reassuring smile regardless of how nervous I feel.

 

He studies our linked fingers then tells me what’s on his mind. He lifts his eyes to mine. “You’re an all or nothing person, Katniss, and sometimes that worries me.”

 

My brow furrows. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m an all or nothing person?”

 

“It means, there is no middle ground with you,” he answers. “And life’s not like that, Katniss. What if we get married and this thing with me takes a turn for the worse? What if I regress and turn into that guy that was rescued from the Capitol?”

 

“But you won’t,” I tell him; thinking I understand his concerns and I can put them to rest, but I was oh so wrong.

 

“We don’t know that,” he says sternly.

 

“Okay. Fine.” I sit upright and he follows suit. “So what if that does happen? We’ve been through it before, we can do it again.”

 

Peeta lets out a frustrated sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt then runs a hand over the nape of his neck. “And if I’m not the guy I am now…if I turn into a mutt again? Are _weeee_ going to go through that together? Or will I have to ask Delly to come back to Twelve so she can help me through it?”

 

I suck in a sharp breath and my throat closes up. Peeta is finally calling me out on my disgustingly bad behavior after he was rescued. I shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, the only thing that surprises me is that it’s taken him this long to say anything.

 

“Geez,” he says and grips my hands tightly between us. “This isn’t coming out the way I want it to. I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you for that.” I focus my tearful gaze on our joined hands. I hear Peeta sniffling before he says thickly, “I remember that day.” My eyes dart to his. “I remember the expression on your face,” his eyes turn glassy and are rimmed in red. “You looked so happy. So hopeful. So…expectant. At the time my head was telling me to kill you, but afterwards…after they got some of that poison out of my system and I started to remember things, I wondered what it was you were hoping for that day.” There is an ache in his voice when he asks, “What was it, Katniss? What were you expecting from me?”

 

I thought about that day, how I rushed into the hospital room where they had him. “I was upset because I wasn’t the first person you saw.” I tell him everything that had gone through my mind; including how jealous I was of Finnick and Annie’s certainty of their love for one another. “When I ran to you, for a split second I thought we’d be like them: Finnick and Annie. That you’d crush your lips to mine, and I’d feel the way I did when we kissed on the beach and then maybe all my questions about who I loved would be answered.” I hang my head for a moment and mumble, “But they weren’t.”

 

“See? That’s it. That right there,” Peeta gives our hands a shake. “I wasn’t the guy you were expecting and because of that—“

 

Ashamed of my past behavior, I look away.

 

Peeta continues with, “I understand why you couldn’t spend time with me back then. I know they thought it would hurt me more than anything, and truthfully…back then…I didn’t want you anywhere near me, but afterward—“

 

“You had time to think about what I did and how I acted,” I finished for him.

 

“I’ve had time to think about a lot of things.”

 

I’m beginning to hate all the things he’s had time to think about. “Like what?” I ask, only because I promised I would talk this through with him and not run away, which I really want to do right now.

 

“Like how it made me feel when you said you’d kill me yourself when Coin sent me to the Capitol.”

 

“I would have never—“

 

“And,” he interrupts me, “why you didn’t answer me in Tigris’s basement when I asked you about making love to you. The way you acted like it didn’t even happen. Like our first time wasn’t something special.”

 

My eyes flash to his. “It was your first time too?” I know this shouldn’t thrill me while we’re in the middle of this serious conversation, but it lifts my spirits.

 

“Well…yeah,” he lets out a little chuckle. “Did you think I slept around because I went out with other girls before you? He gives his head a shake. “That’s why you were upset earlier, isn’t it? Why you said, ‘it was a little too good?’”

 

Fortunately I have the good grace to blush when I admit, “I guess.”

 

“Katniss, did you ever stop to think that maybe we’re just good together?” This entire conversation is shredding my insides to pieces and I stifle a cry which Peeta senses. “Come here,” he brings my forehead to rest against his own. “Katniss, what would have happened to us if I said that you weren’t the only girl I’ve ever been with? If you decided that you couldn’t handle knowing that?”

 

“But I didn’t!” I tell him; only confirming that I did entertain thoughts of him with other people possibly making a difference in our relationship.

 

“Oh, Katniss,” he sighs. “Don’t you see?” He blows out a breath. “You’ve got to give us room for error, because we’re going to make a lot of mistakes, and I’m so afraid that if I’m not always the doting, besotted, love-sick fool that fawns over you, you’re going to give up on me. And I can’t…I can’t lose you again.”

 

“You won’t,” I assure him.

 

“We can’t live an all or nothing life, Katniss. There’s a whole bunch of… _something_ between that all or nothing, and all those little something’s…that’s what makes life worth living.” We’re silent for a few seconds before Peeta says, “I only have one more question to ask you.” Our eyes meet and we hold hands. “Why me? Why now?”

 

He’s asked me those questions before. The funny thing is my answer remains the same. “Because,” I cup his cheek and press a kiss against lips. “I want more.” I see him open his mouth to say something, but I’m terrified of his answer so I tell him the first thing that pops into my head, “Nine weeks ago. It was a Tuesday and you and Haymitch were playing chess in the living room.” I think back to that day and the impact it left on me. “I asked if you wanted more iced tea, and you said, ‘Yes.’ I leaned over to pick up your glass and you rested your hand on the small of my back,” I reach around him and mimic the motion. “It was nothing really, but the way you did it was so…” I searched for the right word, “organic. Like you did it every single day of our lives and it only lasted a few seconds. Just long enough for you to take Haymitch’s pawn, but…” I sigh wistfully and my eyes soften, “I felt the warmth of your touch linger for hours afterward. I thought, maybe…maybe he’s falling in love with me again.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “At least I hoped you were. I stood in the kitchen clutching that glass in my hands when it hit me; that you never stopped loving me.” I think back to our pleas in Tigris’s basement. “It wasn’t you, Peeta. You weren’t the one that forgot to remember. It was me.” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They just seemed to glide down my cheeks, but they weren’t sad ones, they were filled with joy and hope. “When you touched me that day, I knew I was falling in love with you…again.” My voice is shaky and both our cheeks are drenched in tears when I say, “And I’ve cherished all the little moments since.”

 

Peeta lifts my hands to his lips and places a kiss on my knuckles. “Now _that_ was a _something_.” We share a soft smile before he says, “Ask me again, Katniss.”

 

I whisper without hesitation, “Marry me?”

 

Any uncertainty he had has been washed away and I can feel the love radiating from him when he answers with a breathy, “Yeah,” and kisses me softly.

 

There’s a thin stream of mucus forming a bridge between our mouths and we both let out relieved laughter and mop up our faces. We kiss once again which leads to a moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life: sitting on Peeta’s lap, my legs wrapped around his waist, and our bodies…our souls fused tightly together to form one being.

 

Afterward, we settle into bed and Peeta says, “You know, I was going to say, yes, right after you told me you wanted, ‘More.’” He lulls his head in my direction. “I’m a sucker for that, ‘More,’ line, but then you went on and on about how much my touch leaves you breathless and—“

 

“I did not say, breathless,” I interrupt him and we chuckle. “When?” I ask him and it doesn’t surprise me that he knows I’m asking when we can get married.

 

“Got any plans tomorrow?”

 

“No,” I answer with a smile that’s so big it hurts my cheeks.

 

“Then we’ll go to the Justice Building tomorrow and do it,” he pauses, “unless you wanted a big wedding.”

 

“No.” I spread my fingers open over the fuzz on his stomach. “I don’t want a big wedding. I just want to be married to you.” The sound of District Twelve coming to life filters in through the open windows just as we’re ready to let sleep take us over. “I love you, Peeta.”

 

“Love you too,” he murmurs sleepily.

 

He’s right. I am an all or nothing type of person, at least I used to be, but Peeta has taught me that between the lines of black and white there’s a whole world full of color to be appreciated. So when I close my eyes to fall asleep and do what I do every night before bed, I face it with a different outlook on life. I don’t allow myself to be bombarded with a litany of angry voices nor am I trying to keep my feet on the ground. I sort of like the way flying high feels. Right now my thoughts are celebratory and a reminder of all that Peeta has given back to me, _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old. They tried to destroy me…kill me, but I am still alive. I am still young. I am beautiful. And I am in love._

 

**_~The End~_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr. I'm jamiesommers23


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